willowisp
by faorism
Summary: Severus/Remus. Severus had not said a word to him since their departure, and Remus did not appreciate this at all.


_Title_: Will-o-Wisp  
_Series_: Harry Potter  
_Genre and Pairing_: Gen, Romance. Severus/Remus.  
_Words/Progress_: 1200; Complete.  
_Notes_: G. Included is an art piece. For _Snupin Showers 2010_ at LJ's lupin_snape.  
_Summary_: Severus had not said a word to him since their departure, and Remus did not appreciate this at all.

* * *

Severus had not said a word to him since their departure. Yes, he had been aware of the chance that little conversation would be held between them, but none? What good was company without a chat or at least a few lines shared! The sound of the Potions Master's whistling breath broke the tedium of the climb—the bore of one step and then another and then another upon an expanse of earth, grass and rock that all seemed exactly alike no matter how far they traveled—but that alone was not what Remus wished for. He wanted agreement—disagreement—at least the bland acknowledgement that Severus was aware of him! But this, of course, was always too much to ask of Severus. "Acknowledgement?" Ha! Remus was more more likely to receive some from one of the stray birds flying languidly a great measure above their heads.

As his feet carried him on and on, Remus reminded himself plaintively that if he were indeed starved for human relations, then he could initiate; that he could say something and perhaps gain an utterance in return. But he dared not risk it. The biting night was enough to deal with: to accidentally upset Severus by breaking the silence—which would lead to insults and equally harsh retorts—and then have to expend that much more effort to keep a calm head would be too much for Remus to handle. Because, despite there being over a week until his transformation, he felt heavy and his joints tingled remembering the abuse promised for every month of Remus' existence.

It certainly did not help that the walk was assaulting: he spent the day thoroughly busy; he should be asleep; he should not be pushing himself so, and yet he was because he had to. He reminded himself of his business—trapping a hinkypunk for his Third Years, a task that would not have been made if he hadn't expressed his interest in them to the Headmaster who _just so happened_ to know that Severus often encountered the pixie-like beasts when gathering perishable ingredients on some island "not too far" from the castle. Remus would have laughed at the gross exaggeration if he was not conserving his energy to use toward forcing his aching legs forward. "Not too far" required three mid-distance Appariations plus the very climb that Remus was taking part in now. Had he known... No. Had he known, he would have still volunteered because the chance to see a wild fleet of hinkypunks tempted him too much to resist.

So on and on he climbed, with the morose outline of Severus effortlessly gliding up the familiar path. "We shan't disrupt the beasts with Appariation," Severus impassively remarked when he told Remus of the expected forty-minute trek. (It was now nearing an hour, and Remus had no clue if they were even close. Another reason he dared not strike a conversation: he knew he was to blame for the sloth in their pace, and he would rather suffer a task of jealous loneliness than a snide comment about the omnipresent effects lycanthropy had on his system.) And although Remus understood the importance of this sentiment, he would risk Appariation just to end this horrid, pain-inducing repetition. But on and on he walked, past a rare bush, tree and flowerbed, onward toward more grass and small rock clusters. He entertained the thought that perhaps Severus was being led by a hinkypunk that Remus could not see. Perhaps they were indeed lost and walking in circles (impossible as they had been on a virtually straight path since they Disappariated) and they would never break from the beast's wrong advice.

This train of thought was cut off suddenly as a cramp seized Remus' wizened, left knee. He groaned, just loud enough to be audible, before stumbling forward, an angry flush already building on his cheeks. Remus managed to catch himself before he fell to the ground, but he remained fixed in his position: bent over, hand clutching his knee, other hand at his waist—bracing himself. He commanded his body to stand upright, to continue onward and onward until he collapsed dead if needed be; but his limbs refused. Despite his discomfort, the first lucid thought Remus had was: _Curses to all! this careless tumble won't be forgotten by Severus!_

And as he saw Severus stop a few steps ahead, Remus waited for an insult... that never came into fruition. "If you must rest, rest. We will be even more delayed if you continue in your present condition," was what comes instead. Remus managed to snap his eyes upward to stare into the not-piercing gaze of the other man. Remus made no comment as he struggled over to a clutter of rocks, sitting on the largest of the bunch. Remus felt thickness in his throat; felt himself anger and grow tense. He was still tired and his joints hurt even more and he feared that he would have suffered for nothing: that no hinkypunks would come and he had been following the epitome of frustration for over an hour now without any prize in sight.

Really, it should not have been too much of a surprised that Severus merely stood there, face unchanged, the exercise having no effect on him, staring at Remus as though he were part of the very dirt under their feet. Remus dropped his eyes to his injured knee. "I've not any patience to continue anyway: I believe the fleet frequents this area and to go anyway further would be a waste." Even his voice told of nothing: Remus was following a man who carried on as if there was _nothing_ but air between them. Remus _hated_ being ignored. He hated the pain that constantly torments him. Hated the waning crescent hanging in the sky. Hated Severus and his mute wandering. Hated—

And it was then that the first of them came, and Remus could have laughed. He might have. There was definitely a sound that erupted from his mouth: pleasant or otherwise. He distantly heard "It is as I said" from where Severus stood, but Remus did not care. It came across the grass: an imperfect sphere of misty wisps and a glow like light. Gaily it danced to them; gaily it twitched in its path and behind the form there was another and another and another. Up close, Remus knew what to expect: malformed, one-legged and skinny things. Up close, they would whisper little suggestions: turn left, right, straight off the cliff. But from this distance, he only saw their glow.

A hand reached out beside him. "Let me be."

Severus flexed his long brittle fingers. "It is that kind of thinking that leads men astray. These creatures are known for their persuasiveness." Remus swallowed the _Stuff it_ riding on the tip of his tongue, but took the hand anyway. Severus stood stiff. Nonchalant. Apathetic. No hint of anything more than his bland exterior. No sign of anything between them but air—even though there was no one but the flickering hinkypunks to see—the first time they had had alone together in ages. But, Remus realized as a thumb wearily swept over his knuckles in a firm massage, perhaps it could be construed as pleasant to have naught but the clasps of atmosphere (which was now tainted by the mist of the floating eternal orbs) between him and the other man. He smiled at his silly thought. _Perhaps—perhaps._


End file.
